


Lilies From Our Lips

by Enj_y



Category: Jreg, The Centricide (Webseries)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Flower Symbolism, Hanahaki Disease, I'm Bad At Tagging, I'm Bad At Titles, I'm Sorry, Major threat of character death, Other, Poisoning, Recreational Drug Use, Slurs, beware of rants from me against basically everything
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-11
Updated: 2020-09-05
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:15:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24119362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Enj_y/pseuds/Enj_y
Summary: Ancom and Commie couldn't have been expected to understand their own emotions at this point, really.
Relationships: Ancom/Commie, LibLeft/AuthLeft, Minor or Background Relationship(s), leftist unity - Relationship
Comments: 16
Kudos: 60





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> TW for Nazi using homophobic and transphobic slurs in this chapter! 
> 
> So, I'm sort of using my own interpretation of hanahaki because I can. Instead of it just being unrequited love, it's also if you think it's unrequited cause that's way more fun. (Imma be real i know nothing about hanahaki tbh all my knowledge comes from my friend lunarapocolypse. check her out on Tumblr and here, she's an angel and my beta-er. she's lovely, i love her, not sorry for embarrassing you luna. <3)
> 
> Hope you enjoy! The last chapter in my other multi-chapter fic should be out by Wednesday. If it's not, feel free to yell at me lol

The spring was always Ancom’s favourite time of year. Flowers began to bloom again, still there after a dark winter. Silky petals spread, green stems reaching towards the warmth and heat of the sunlight. A sense of euphoria seemed to settle around qim, heart lighter than the puffy clouds above qir head. A light wind curled the ends of qir hair, swishing the knee-length skirt patterned with cat faces qi had chosen to wear when qi decided qi would spend the day in the extensive gardens surrounding Ancap’s estate. They were intensely gaudy, obnoxiously so, an obscene display of wealth that the man never even used. It was pathetic, really. What was the point of spending millions of dollars on something never even used? His reasoning always seemed to be beyond any comprehension by Ancom. Everyone called qim inconsistent when his stupid system literally couldn’t exist without a government in place! As if the NAP would just solve everything… They were all but neofeudalists! It was bullshit, the fact that this system was seen as reasonable, the best possible option! 

Qir hands were clenched into fists, and qir throat was tightening. Qi sighed, refocusing on the world around them. Qi was okay. Qi could see the pebble path beneath them, the deep green grass surrounding it on either side, the enormous hedge maze in the middle of the gardens, the trees forming the border around them, and a small dandelion poking up from between the pebbles. Qi could feel the breeze brushing by qir legs, the rocks beneath qir sandals, the sun on qir face, and the fabric of qir light green hoodie. Qi could hear a bird singing, the blades of grass rustling, and what sounded like a heated argument between Commie and Nazi on the balcony. Qi could smell fresh soil and nearby lilies of the valley. (Qi quite loved lilies of the valley—they meant returning to happiness, something Ancom held on to in qir darker moments.) Now the last part, what was something good about qim? Well… Qi was very very passionate, that’s what Commie always said… Qi was okay. Everything was okay. 

Ancom wandered through the meticulously sculpted gardens, eventually settling down for a quick break on a bench next to a marble fountain. The water sparkled brilliantly, the sun reflecting like a million stars. It was early April, a dull winter fading to a welcoming spring, with International Worker’s Day being just around the corner. Ancom always spent International Worker’s Day with qir twin sister, Anarchosyndicalism, qir cousins (the other anarchists), the feminist sisters, Progressive, Socialist, and Commie. Commie… At this point, Commie was the only other leftist qi got to spend time with, seldom able to leave Ancap’s manor due to the Centricide. Ancom was still on board of course, but it was exhausting to have to spend every single day with a literal Nazi, Ancap, and Commie. Ancap, who saw qim as little more than someone to exploit for drugs, Nazi, who was, well, a Nazi, and Commie, who talked down to qim and used to act as though qi didn’t understand what qi was talking about. He was tolerable at the very least and was getting better with the whole ‘talking down thing’ after qi got mad and threw the Conquest of Bread at his head with all of qir strength, which was more than you would expect. He really was a kind person, when it got down to it, and they wanted similar things. Sure, qi would prefer to spend time with Ansyn, but he could be pleasant to debate with (occasionally). 

Qi was startled from qir thoughts by a short whistle from above qir head. Qi looked up to see a small bird fluttering down to sit just in front of qim on the ground, whistling again. Ancom giggled slightly, a warm smile spreading across qir face. Qi tried to whistle back, but qir voice cracked, so qi cleared qir throat, but it seemed as though it didn’t help whatsoever. Qi coughed again, it felt like there was something that had gotten caught in qir throat, something almost... Stringy? Ancom tried to cough again, ending up in a horrible coughing fit, unable to stop the convulsions, and fell to qir knees, tears flooding qir eyes. It felt like hours, despite most likely have only been a minute when qi came back to the world, able to wipe qir eyes and see again. There were flowers. _Flowers._ Ancom was sure they hadn’t been there before, Ancap didn’t even have this type of flower in his garden. What were they? Qi was sure qi knew the name, but it didn’t come to qir mind. It felt like qi had seen them before, but qi wasn’t sure. The red blooms clung to the stem, forming an appearance almost like a sword, or a spear. It took qim a moment to remember that what the flowers were called had little to nothing to do with the situation because _qi had just coughed up flowers, what the actual fuck?_ Ancom was fairly sure qi wasn’t high either, qi normally did that in qir room, and qi had never had anything even close to this happen before! Qi should probably call Ansyn. She could help qim figure it out… 

  
  


* * *

  
  


“Is it really so hard for you to learn basic human respect and decency, Nazi?” Commie growled, his hands fisted so tightly his nails were digging into his palms. “Is it really so hard to make a tiny adjustment to your speech so that Ancom can feel more comfortable?” 

“We shouldn’t be trying to make the tranny more comfortable,” he spat. “ _He_ needs to be fixed, the filthy fucking queer.” Commie locked his jaw, considering how painful it would be for Nazi if he punched him in the nose versus in the jaw. 

“You have one last chance to shut up,” he warned, gritting his teeth in a fit of anger he hardly understood. 

“Aw, are you mad that I’m insulting your little pet? How noble of you.” Nazi had a horrible grin painted across his face, a nasty thing that could kill a small child. 

“Shut. The. Fuck. Up.” Commie swung his fist, hitting Nazi square in the face with all of his strength. He was rewarded with a cry of pain from the fascist, who pulled a gun out. 

“Uhm...” Commie looked over to the stairs to see an extraordinarily pale Ancom standing there, an awkward expression on qir face. “Can I just... slide through here?”

“Ugh, whatever. Not worthwhile,” Nazi groused, stomping off to probably go play Call of Duty or something in his room.

“Damned Fascist,” Commie growled. 

“What happened? Why did he pull a gun on you?” Ancom asked, looking almost concerned. 

“I told him to stop calling you a he,” Commie shrugged. “It’s not a big deal.”

“Oh... thank you. For standing up for me. Thanks.”

“Uhm, no problem, Anarkiddie,” he stammered, half enamoured with the look of all of Ancom’s focus all on him. He liked that, he would have to figure out how to make that happen more. 

“Sorry, uh, I’m just gonna head inside. Thanks again. See you around?”

“Da.” Commie stared at qim as qi left, settling down at the table and picking up his phone to distract himself from the troubling flip of his stomach at the look in Ancom’s deep jade eyes. 

He felt sick, the world seeming to swim before his eyes as he coughed heavily, initially blaming the layer of pollen covering everything, but when something came out of his mouth, he froze. Flowers. Small white bells dangling from a green stem. That he had coughed up. _Chto za khren?_

  
  


* * *

  
  


Ancom opened the door to qir room, still in half a daze. Coughing up flowers?! That had to be the strangest thing to happen to qim in at least ten years. Qi collapsed onto qir bed and pulled out qir phone, dialling Anarchosyndicalism’s phone number.

“Hey, sib! What’s up? You doing okay?” Her voice was cheery, Ansyn had been practically a beam of sunlight lately, thrilled at the fact that people were attempting to organise a general strike. 

“Yeah, uhm, hey, this is a bit of a weird question, but have you ever coughed up flowers?” Ancom mumbled, pulling down qir bandana. 

“Excuse me, what? Ancom, are you high?”

“I don’t think so—“

“Ancom!”

“No, but I coughed up flowers. They were red, I think they were sword lilies?”

“Coughing up flowers is not a medical condition I have ever heard of.” Ansyn’s voice was almost weak, wavering a bit as though she was about to fall over. 

“Well, I’ll google it I guess...” Ancom pulled qir laptop over to qim, typing in qir password and opening up google. “I guess I just put in like... ‘I coughed up flowers help’?”

“I don’t have a better idea.”

“Okay...” Qi clicked the enter key, and was faced with several different links, the top result labelled ‘Hanahaki Disease’. “Hanahaki? Is that a thing?”

“Sounds Japanese to me,” Ansyn said, furrowing her brow slightly. 

“Acquired when the victim suffers from unrequited love,” Qi read. “Hanahaki can be cured through surgical removal of the plants' roots, but this excision also has the effect of removing the patient's capacity for romantic love. It may also erase the patient's feelings for and memories of the enamoured. It can also be cured by the reciprocation of the victim's feelings. Without urgent action, the victim may die.”

“You have a crush?”

“Really focusing on the important thing here, Ansyn,” Qi snorted. “How about the whole death thing?”

“Counterpoint, you didn’t tell me?!”

“I don’t know, okay? I don’t have a crush on anyone! I don’t like girls, which rules out all the feminist sisters, the other anarchists are our cousins, which, ew, the odds of me falling for one of the rightists is absolutely zero, which leaves Commie. Sure, I mean, he’s cool and all, and I guess he’s hot, but I don’t love him! Not like this!!” Ancom bit qir lip, grabbing a nearby stress ball and squeezing tightly. This was crazy, this had to just be something silly, right? A bad dream, something like that! Qi wasn’t in love, that’s ridiculous! And with Commie? No... That wasn’t possible...

“Ancom, take a nap. I’ll... I’ll call the others, we’ll figure this out. Go to sleep, everything will be okay.”

“I... Are you sure?”

“Yes. Get some rest. I love you, sib.”

“I love you too, sis.” Ansyn hung up, leaving Ancom to curl up into a small ball on the bed. What was going on? How could qir life have fallen apart so fast?


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m so sorry lmfao   
> I promise I’ll finish the other one... probably

Chto za khren? Commie stared at the small white flowers, half terrified and half dazed. This wasn’t possible, this shouldn’t be possible. Flowers. Flowers! Flowers that he had coughed up, which shouldn’t be remotely possible. Ideologies didn’t get sick, and if they did, there was a reason why. It always had to do with the people, the people behind the ideology were everything, and there was absolutely no precedent for coughing up flowers. Even among humans, he’d never heard of something like this. He doubted any of the books he had would contain any information on this sort of thing, which means he’d probably have to use the internet. He didn’t mind the internet per se, and it could certainly be quite helpful for distributing information regarding communism and leftist propaganda at large, but it also had the issues of the alt-right being able to grow like cancer and the fact that he couldn’t even access it without taking advantage of a slave somewhere, yet he supposed it would have to do. He scooped up the flowers and went up to his room, settling down in his leather armchair and pulling out his laptop. ‘Coughing up flowers’ would work. The first results were something to do with a music video, but beyond that were sites speaking of something called ‘hanahaki disease.’ 

“The Hanahaki Disease is an illness born from unrequited love, where the patient’s throat will fill up with flowers, they will then proceed to throw, and cough up the petals, (sometimes even the flowers). One of the only ways for the disease to ‘disappear’ is if, the said person returns the feeling (it can’t be resolved with friendship, it has to be genuine feelings of love). The infection can also be removed through surgery, though the feelings disappear along with the petals. If they choose nether options, or the feeling is not returned in time, then the patient’s lungs will fill up with flowers, and will eventually suffocate. There is no specific flower for the disease, but it’ll either be the crushes favourite type of flower, or their favourite colour. We can only hope for the patients, and pray that the crushes favourite flower isn’t a type of rose.” 

Love? Was that even possible? He shut the laptop and pushed it on to the small table next to him and he put his face in his hands. His stomach churned, it felt like he might throw up, like the room would fall down around him. He coughed heavily again, flower petals spilling from his lips. 

This just isn’t possible. 

___

Ancom woke up at about five am, a brief moment of euphoria from being fully rested before the world sunk back in. Right. The world still exists. Shit. Qi sighed, rolling off the bed and dressing in one of qir hoodies and a pair of leggings. Qi grabbed qir bandana and tied it around qir neck and walked out, half-consumed in qir thoughts. 

“Oh! Hello, Comrade.” Ancom jumped backwards, Commie’s voice shocking them to qir core. He had a small smile on his face, and Ancom stared at him for a moment.

“Uh, hi. How are you?” Qi squeaked, reaching a hand to rub at qir throat which seemed to have tightened. Qi coughed into qir hands, shoving qir hands back in qir pockets to hide the flower petals. 

“Uhm, good. Are you alright? You seem a bit sick, comrade.” Ancom shifted slightly from heel to heel, half desperate to get very far away from this situation. 

“Yeah, erm, I’m okay. I’m a bit sick I guess, I’ve been coughing and stuff.” Qi rubbed qir finger against the flower petals in qir pocket, the silky petal bringing a wave of anxiety over qim. Qir stomach seemed to be filling with liquid lead, bubbling and growing heavier by the second. 

“If you need anything, I’ll be happy to help, Anarkiddie. I’ll be on a run.” Commie smiled slightly and clasped qir shoulder before turning and heading out the door. Qi sighed, wandering into the kitchen aimlessly. Qi figured qi’d find some breakfast, although nothing sounded particularly appealing at the moment. Maybe some ice cream... Ancom dug a mostly full tub out of the pantry, chocolate with cookie dough, grabbed a spoon, and put it in the microwave so qi could actually eat it without breaking the spoon. After twenty seconds, qi went into the living room and flopped across the couch, opening YouTube on qir phone and shovelling the ice cream into qir face. “Ooh, NonCompete uploaded.” Qi hummed, opening the video. 

“Hi, I’m Emerican Johnson, and welcome back to NonCompete.”

“Hi EJ.” Qi said. Qi was a patron on about thirty different leftist channels, large and big alike. Qi was stealing money from Ancap and donating it to Leftists en masse. Ancap had so much money he wouldn’t notice either way, qi figured. After a few minutes, qi felt petals in qir throat again, and felt anxiety brewing in qir stomach once more. God, not more of this... Ancom began to cough heavily, trying desperately to just get it over with. This was seriously the worst thing that had ever happened to qim. Then somehow it got worse. 

“Jeez, Ancom. You alright? Don’t get that ice cream all over my couch by the way. That thing was seventeen thousand five hundred and sixty eight dollars, and ninety two cents. Be careful. Are you sick?” Qi couldn’t answer Ancap, qi couldn’t stop coughing. “Dude. Need some water? Are those flower petals in your hands?” Ancom choked out an entire flower before leaning back against the couch with tears in qir eyes. 

“Please say nothing to anyone.” Qi mumbled. 

“Yeah, sure, that was really horrifying to watch. Are you sick?”

“I think.”

“Fuck, what disease even makes you cough up flowers? Is that a thing?”

“Look, I don’t have to open up about my issues to you, Ancap.” Ancom said, shooting him a look of annoyance and disgust. 

“Chill out, I don’t expect you to, and I don’t want you to, unless you’re paying me.” Ancap said snidely, brushing off his suit. 

“Oh, fuck off.” Ancom groused. 

“This is my house.” 

“Still fuck off.” 

“Ugh, you’re just so pleasant today, aren’t you?” Ancap said, annoyance in every thread of his voice. “Whatever. Libertarian invited me to go golfing.” Ancom rolled qir eyes as he walked out of the room. He was so fucking insufferable... Qi coughed weakly again, another flower petal on qir tongue. God. What was Ancom even supposed to do? Qi wasn’t even sure who qi was in love with...

——

Commie walked out one of the back doors, stepping into the enormous gardens. He stooped down to ensure his boots were double knotted, and then stood back up and broke into a brisk run. The pebbles crunched softly beneath his feet, and the cool spring air blew softly past him as he ran. After about half an hour, he stopped at one of the centrepieces of the garden, of which there were an obscene amount. Many featured statues of people Ancap considered heroes, and each was just as detestable as the last. Ayn Rand, Murray Rothbard, David Friedman, all the really fucking stupid dipshits that Ancap liked to wax poetic about. This little area though actually was rather pleasant. Commie assumed it was because Ancom had torn down the statue, as shown by the torn up base where Ancom had scribbled in permanent marker: “fuck your state, ancap. you’re not an anarchist, and your piece of shit heroes aren’t either. all power to the people!” It was written messily, and had a somewhat messily drawn resist fist drawn beneath it, but Commie agreed with the sentiment. Ancom had also taken it upon qimself to replace the plaque describing the person’s achievements with a plaque describing Karl Marx’s achievements. He wasn’t exactly sure where Ancom had gotten it, but he wasn’t going to ask, as it likely wasn’t somewhere qi should have gotten it. 

He sat down on the cool marble bench and looked up at the sky. It was a lovely shade of baby blue, and there were just a few puffy cumulus clouds floating across the sky. The whole world seemed to be feeling dreamy. Commie on the other hand, did not. The high from his run had worn off and he could feel flowers in his throat. He coughed heavily, petals falling into his hands. His head spun rapidly, and he felt like he might fall over at any given moment. Commie tried to stand up so that he could walk back to his room, but the last thing he felt before the world went dark was his legs collapsing from under him.


End file.
